Splitting the Uprights
by AuraofDawn
Summary: Soccer practice coincided with football practice for one day. But that was all it took. They see him, get him practicing, and suddenly he's being fitted for pads and a helmet and trades in his shin guards for a mouth guard before he's entirely sure of what he's gotten himself into. All she does is smile at him. But that's all it takes. High School/Sports AU
1. Chapter 1

**This was a gift I wrote for elrickeyblade in the YJ Christmas Exchange on tumblr (which you can get to through my profile if you're curious). I had quite a few plot bunnies and not enough time for this originally, so I've decided to continue it, somehow someway. I don't usually write much, so please forgive any glaring mistakes. Enjoy!**

* * *

Late late late. Oh, he was so so screwed. The wheels of his skateboard weren't rolling near fast enough for his taste. And his phone _had_ to ring just as he was trying to land a kickflip.

"Jaime—!" the caller started.

"Yeah, I know it's almost time for practice, Tye—but I'm practically there! I'm taking a short cut through the parking lot now," his friend didn't make an argument, besides reminding him to hurry up, _or else._

"Hasta pronto!"

_Liar_.

Jaime was late, he was screwed, he was never going to hear the end of it from Coach Carr, and that wasn't even considering what his teammates would do to him.

Skateboards weren't even allowed on campus. At all. If any late-working administrators happened upon him and his illegal wheels he would be in an even bigger heap of trouble. One he couldn't get out of by volunteering to be the shag today. But if he could just make the turn around the gym, coast on the track, and ollie onto the soccer field without any distractions, he could make it out okay.

He made a smooth jump off the stairs and pushed his leg across the pavement to give him a much-needed boost. The wind whistled in his ears and ruffled the short black hair at the base of his neck. Emerging before him was the large football field and track, tucking in front of the soccer field he was racing towards.

Another jump onto the curb and he skates onto the rubbery track, thankful the cross country team picked today not to practice there. He was too far away to see any of his teammates yet, but the large football players and nimble cheerleaders stood out starkly from the green turf. Just one more wide turn and he could still make it just in the nick of time…

_"Heads up!"_

_"Que?"_

Jaime's head whipped around to the left, but his reflexes weren't quick enough. A football sliced through the air and smacked him in the back, knocking him well off his skateboard and onto the track. He let out a hiss of pain and quickly wished his ringing ears were enough to drown out the distant sound of snickering coming from the field.

_"Ayyy…."_ groaning, he pulled himself up and kneeled on the track, looking up just in time to see a yellowish blur racing towards him.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" a feminine-sounding voice spoke fast. "I am so so sorry! Usually my aim is better but the wind picked up a bit ago and I didn't—"

_"Callate!"_

Jaime clamped a hand over his mouth. The blonde girl now in front of him blinked. Her sky blue eyes were wide and innocent-like. If there was a more perfect cheerleader type, she was the closest thing to it.

"I-I uh, mean, you don't have to apologize…."

"Really? But you're okay, right?"

"Yeah. Fine." _Still late to soccer, but—_

"Oh, is this your skateboard?" she jogged over to where it was still rolling away with the wind. She bent to pick it up and his eyes immediately went to his sneakers and long soccer socks. Just a step away was the object that had pelted him, an NFL-sized football. Instinctively, he picked it up and felt the tight laces underneath his fingers, along with how no matter how hard he squeezed, it wouldn't budge. He could see now how it felt like a cement block crashing into the top of his spine and unleashing a web of pain into his neck.

Throwing it back would not fix his already thrashed ego, however. If the girl had terrible aim, his wasn't going to be any better. Still, though…

Without another thought, he was tossing the ball into the air, taking a step back, and swinging his foot right into the laces. The tightness hardly registered on his foot as he ended his kicking motion and watched the football fly back towards the teams on the field. It soared in a high arc and coasted in the air for a long moment, and even as it began to fall it sailed past the helmets of the football team. A few of them absentmindedly gazed it it's direction and followed it's path. The ball finally landed with a soft thunk just in front of the end zone.

A small smile crossed his face. It disappeared as quickly as it had come when he felt a small buzz in the pocket of his shorts. Tye. Practice. _You're late._

He quickly turned and nearly crashed right into the cheerleader. She was still holding his skateboard and smiling like a pageant winner. "Did _you_ kick that?" she asked.

"Yeah, sorry I missed them by a bit, but I really need to go—"

"You almost split the uprights!"

"Okay, thanks, can I get my skate—"

She handed the board back without taking her excited gaze off of him. "You know you kicked that across the entire field, right? Have you ever-"

_"Lo siento_, I need to go!"

Opting to forget about getting any speed on his board, he broke into a sprint down the track, leaving her calling behind him. She didn't follow him; he didn't want her to. What was a pretty girl going to do that would make any punishment from his coach worth it?

Actually, he didn't want to know. It was better this way.

Looking ahead, he could see the team already returning from their warm-up run. A little under ten minutes late, but he'd still have to run double now and speed through his stretches and then _pray_ he didn't have to run extra wind sprints.

The fence separating the fields was low enough to jump over, especially with his head start. His skateboard tucked under his arm, he leapt off the track to hurdle it and—

—met the grass with a hard _THUNK_.

The laughing was much louder this time. Now two fields of practices had seen him face plant all over the ground and all Jaime could do was admit defeat at the hands of gravity.

"Dios mio…" he groaned, and shifted his back to the ground. His leg refused to move at first, and he could only blink at seeing why. The shoelaces on his kicking foot were tangled in the top of the fence he tried to jump. He hadn't noticed they were loose when he kicked the football. They had caught in midair; sealed his embarrassment for the rest of his high school career.

More laughing echoed closer to him and he looked up to see Tye standing above him, holding his gut in hysterics. "Ohhh man, you shoulda _seen _yourself!" he kept chuckling, but offered Jaime a hand.

He rolled his eyes and pulled himself up, kicking off his sneaker in the process. Tye made a move towards his friend's board while the embattled teen looked back on the football field again. Plenty of players and cheerleaders were still giggling and pointing at him, but they were stopping abruptly. A few even looked ashamed, but they all were looking in one direction, away from him…?

"Hold on a second." said a voice he didn't recognize. Jaime jumped and turned again, only to find a very tall, _very_ intimating man in sunglasses standing behind him. Before any questions could form in his mouth, another voice answered one for him;

"_Coach Grayson!"_

It was the blonde. Her voice had sounded yards away but she was by his side in what felt like a moment. He could only gawk at her as she grinned at the both of them.

"You're…pretty quick." he finally gasped. She only shrugged.

"That's what we expect from our starting running back," the coach added, smiling slightly.

Jaime blinked. Then the words slowly sunk in. Starting _running back_. _Not _a cheerleader. _Football player._

"Wait. You're—and he's—so that means…" his head was starting to ache processing all the information.

"Jaime, you've met Cassie already," the blonde—Cassie now—gave a little wave and smiled. He could see now that the sweatshirt she wore was emblazoned with the football team's logo, but anybody in school could easily get their hands on one. "And you can just call me Coach. I help out with the football team. But _we_ could use _your_ help."

"Me? But how do you know who I am?"

"Coach Carr gave me the soccer roster. My roster needs a new kicker."

"Oh, uh, that's nice…" Jaime looked between Cassie and her coach. Both their eyes seemed to share some sort of wicked glint to them, and they knew it too.

"Do it again," the man ordered. The teen only stared back at him, confused. Rolling his eyes, the coach motioned towards Cassie, who held out another football.

Silence filled the trio and led Jaime to pause. He looked back at his teammates, who were doing shooting drills now. Coach Carr stood apart from them and flashed a thumb's up towards his player. _He knew._ There was never going be any punishment. Relief ran through his spine like an open river.

Nobody on the football field was paying attention them anymore. Of course, the football team was huge. They needed several coaches just to deal with them. Every player had their own priorities. Some were only on the field every so often, others only played when they were absolutely needed.

He knew he'd have to quite literally kick his way up in the ranks if they took him in. Probably adjust the angle of his kicks. Plus there was a much different uniform and rules and not to mention the sport itself was miles more _dangerous_.

There would more than enough trouble staying in one piece than getting his kicks on target.

"Oh, no, I really can't—" he let on until Cassie grabbed his arm again, gentler this time. Her eyes were soft, imploring of him. Suddenly he needs to remind himself to breathe.

"I can tell you, it'll be worth it." As if to prove it, she places the football in his hands. He thumbs the laces again, this time feeling the control the tight leather is meant to bring.

The next time he looks up, she's smiling again.

And any conscious doubts he has left just disappear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Apologies this update took so long, real life has been kicking my muse and I in the back for awhile and I haven't had as much time to devote to anything else. Hope you guys aren't too mad about that. I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed and followed so far though! You guys are too sweet c:**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Exactly seven minutes, twenty-eight steps, and several hallow breaths later is when Jaime begins to regret everything.

Dozens of eyes are trained on him. Why wouldn't they? The kid is being escorted by their coach and not-cheerleading-running-back. No, it wasn't enough that he'd just face-planted several times for their entertainment, _no_, that would just make it too easy.

Being the soccer player brought in to try to be their new kicker, now that was where the real embarrassment was.

And Jaime was walking right into it.

"You know, ese, I don't think this is a real good time for me-you know, I've never done this before-I'm not really dressed to play anything other than _futbol_-" he gestured down to the long blue socks and shin guards sticking out of his cleats.

The coach just waved his hand off and kept walking in stride with his players. "Oh, don't worry about that; you've already got cleats, and that's all you'll need for now."

They stopped and turned on the new recruit. His and Cassie's simultaneous smiles were not reassuring.

"So...what exactly do you want me to do?"

Coach bent down and placed a bright orange object on the ground, stepping back and motioning towards it. He held his palms out towards Cassie until a football landed between them, and grasped it tight.

"I'd like you to kick the ball off the tee," he motioned towards the orange thing, "and through the goal posts over there."

On the other side of the field stood the yellow twin poles, looking more like a large fork than any sort of goal. The lines seperating him from them looked to be the same length of a regulation soccer field, and Jaime guessed that thirty, maybe forty yards of field seperated them. He'd been scoring goals farther than that since middle school. The only obvious obstacle was the fact that the fork stood a good twelve feet higher than any soccer goal he'd ever shot at. Aiming was _not_ going to be easy.

"Seem doable?"

Grayson's speech brought Jaime out of his thoughts. Running a hand throught his dark hair, he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll try."

"You've nearly done it before," the man spoke of the drop kick that had landed Jaime in this situation in the first place, "so doing it in a nice setup like this should be easy."

_Should be._

Sure, he'd seen enough _futbol_ _americano_ on TV to know that kicking a field goal was never the source of much fanfare; it was played off as a last resort for points when the teams' offense couldn't get the touchdown they aimed for. Instead of seven they'd get three and usually that was enough to win a game.

If any of those preconceptions applied to the high school level, Jaime wasn't sure. He'd seen one, maybe two games under the Friday night lights since his freshman year? That didn't give him any clue as to how good the team actually was.

So why is this Grayson dude acting like the fate of the world depends on joining his team?

Sighing, Jaime figured the best approach would be the same one he took to penalty kicks. A few big steps back at an angle, eying the hight and distance. Then he took a deep breath, and broke into a quick jog to the tee, barreling into the bottom of the ball with his right foot. But his throat seized a bit as soon as the pressure left his cleat; he could feel the awkwardness of the angle and position his foot had taken. He had given it plenty of power as he could see it soar high enough to split the uprights as Cassie had described.

But it was spinning all akimbo, and even Jaime could tell it wasn't supposed to look like that.

Finally, the ball's dissent slowed, though it looked a bit too far to the right of the bars to land between them. But, somehow, it was suddenly knocked out of its course, apparently by the hitting the bar itself. Like a deflected bullet the ball whipped towards the other bar and snuck behind it. The thunk of its landing on the grass echoed back to the ears of the three.

Jaime had almost forgotten he had an audience until he heard clapping.

"You did it!" _Sort of, anyway_. Cassie appeared at his side with another pageant-grade smile and a new ball. Then it hit him that she was standing where Coach Grayson had been. And he, was now gone.

Brown eyes flicked around the field until they landed on the sidelines. The entire football team looked present, some sitting and stretching, others mingling with each other and the few cheerleaders that had strayed from their practice taking place further down the track.

"Easy, right?"

Grayson had magically appeared beside the teens again, clutching a clipboard and a pen. Jaime gaped at Cassie for some kind of explanation only to get a shrug.

"Take a 5K, Gamma!" He commanded a group of players lounging on the edge of the bleachers. Their groans were loud and exaggerated as they peeled themselves away from a couple of cheerleaders and half-jogged down the track.

Jaime gasped. "Did he just send them on a marathon?" Cassie shushed him immediately and faced her coach like a diligent student.

The man kept his attention on his clipboard even as he still held the teens'. "You can adjust the angle or get someone to hold it if you want, get your feet wet before you run drills or anything...kick offs are a whole 'nother story; you'll need to work with the special teams squad before you try any of that-"

Jaime's head swelled with the list of unfamiliar terms and held his hands up in defeat. "Whoa, whoa, whoaa, can I just take this," he held up the football, "and get back to my soccer practice? I mean, not that I'm making any decisions about joining you guys yet, but-"

"Oh, of course. Technically, I can't even have you on the field if you haven't filed the right paperwork with the athletic director first," he pulled at the base of his neck and looked away, "but you've just saved me the trouble of trying out the entire soccer team for this. So kick a little here, some more with Carr, and we'll have a more official talk again soon. Alright?"

For the first time Jaime could agree with everything the man said. "Sure."

With a turn and a half glance back he made his way back to the soccer field, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweater as he walked. Coach Grayson only stood and looked pleased with himself, despite the harsh reflection of the afternoon sun from his dark sunglasses. Beside him, Cassie was cheerfully waving with the football tucked under her other arm. Ten, maybe twenty minutes Jaime had known her now, and she was smiling like they were the best of friends.

He was begining to wonder if she ever did anything _but_ smile. But he didn't plan on sticking around to find out for himself either. The whole idea of football was still so insane, so _loco_, he didn't want to think about it for the rest of the night.

If only he had wished to be exempt from the next morning as well.

* * *

_"Hey Jaime!"_

He turned. Jogging up to meet him was the girl from yesterday. The not-cheerleader.

"Hey..." What was her name? Did she ever tell him? Did he even ask? "You."

She smiles again. Suddenly the last sixteen hours come rushing back to him. That same, ever-present smile. "Do you have a second to talk?" she asks.

"Uh, we're already late for class—"

"I can get you a pass from Coach Carr. Come on, it won't take long."

He doesn't even have time to squeak out an "ok" before she drags him off by the arm to the social studies building. Her hold is firm—he's sure it'll bruise later—but that becomes the least of his problems when he's led into a room with both Coach Carr_ and _Coach Grayson.

Nobody says anything until the girl coughs and nudges Jaime in the arm, gently this time.

"Uh, hi, Coach Carr." he waves shyly.

"Morning, Jaime," the brunette man returns the gesture and motions to the men beside him. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Grayson. You might know him better as the school's football coach."

_Not really._

"And I hope our up-and-coming running back didn't give you any trouble, right Cassie?" he grinned at the girl Jaime had seen so much in the past 24 hours. _Cassie, right._ He remembered now. The one that looked like a cheerleader, but apparently _wasn't._

Cassie seemed to sense his inner discord and winked at him. Or at least he thought she did. His judgement had really taken a turn for worse recently. Any question he could've asked her dried in his throat. "Not all, Coach!" she grinned back.

"So," the soccer coach eyed him quizzically, "I hear you're thinking about playing a different version of football."

He shrugged. Carr had only let on that he understood Jaime's tardiness to the practice before, and that was it. "I guess so? I kinda got ambushed with the idea."

"There's good reason for that." Grayson clarifies. There's a wicked glint in his eye, but Jaime is hesitant to grasp what the man means.

"I know you want me to join the football team, but is it really that pressing? Don't you guys have a backup or something?"

Grayson only shakes his head. "Our kicker broke his ankle recently. We're trying to make a playoff run and, frankly, having a kicker is kinda crucial to that."

"I coulda made up for it if _someone_ would let me take more carries..." Cassie interjected.

The football coach rolled his eyes. "You can't _still_ be mad about that."

"My fourty time is just as fast as Conner's and right up there with Clark and Diana's! But I dont get nearly as much playing time? You _know_ that's not right!"

The man sighs heavily and massages his temple. Cassie huffs at him and folds her shoulders up into a full pout. Jaime wants to nothing more than to fly out of the room at the moment.

"Look, Jaime," the teen's attention is grasped by the coach again, "I'm sorry this is so sudden, but we'd still like to convince you to join up with us. You probably don't recognize me, but I," he gestures to himself, "used to play here too. Pretty well. So you'd understand our desire to be just as good as coaches."

"You guys, huh?" He can believe it from the way guy's built, but he'd never heard of a Grayson. Names like Wayne and Kent were more prominent in his memory of successful alumni.

The man still shrugs. He seemed like the low-profile type of guy anyway. Who else would wear sunglasses _indoors_ at eight in the morning?

"Well, the team isn't about making all-stars. We bring plenty of training and advice and camaraderie that apply to just about everything besides football. Going pro isn't for everybody after all."

"And," Coach Carr is quick to add, "you wouldn't have to worry about missing soccer practice. Football season is already halfway over, and soccer is technically a winter sport, so you wouldn't miss a thing."

Jaime sighs. He isn't even sure he _wants_ to challenge their pitch anymore. "I don't know..."

"He is right about one thing."

He blinks. Cassie is at his side, no longer glaring at her coach. She reaches out to his shoulder again, far more gently, and locks eyes with him. "I'm only a freshman and never did more than pop warner before... I had the skill set to do just about any sport I wanted, but I wasn't sure which one. Until Coach here told me straight up what I needed to work on, and how I could do it. By being a running back."

Her smile was more of a smirk now, but her sky blue irises didnt appear to be lying. She looked earnest, even a little shy of her origin story, but one thing was clear; Grayson knew what he was doing. _Even_ as he kept his head buried in his clipboard again. It would've been so much easier to trust the guy if he didn't swear those shady glasses all the time.

"How about you join us? After school today?" Grayson smirks through his plea and Carr just looks like his usual encouraging self while Cassie, once again, grins from ear to ear behind them.

It's as if the time stops and serializes the scene for all to await his decision. And then the doubt comes back and he feels as if his only opponent is in his mind, reminding him that (besides Carr) he barely knows these people. They don't seem to ask much, but he's already had to make one decision in less than twenty-four hours, and he's still not entirely sure he wants to go two-for-two.

Then again, his resolve has always been weak.


End file.
